‘That’s not what this was,’ Mum said, her words stiff as though her lips had gone numb. ‘I was very ill. I simply couldn’t carry the weight of anyone else any more. The only way to do that was to make a complete break. But it wasn’t a punishment.’
‘You weren’t still angry with her?’ Nicky asked, slumping back like a deflating balloon. ‘You can swear what happened with Jonah had nothing to do with you rarely phoning, no videocalls, no invites to join you on the high seas?’
‘Oh, you know I can’t handle that type of new-fangled technology.’ Mum huffed. ‘Most of the time I had no phone signal.’
‘Stop it,’ I said, causing Mum to jerk her head towards me in surprise. I’d been an unassuming twenty-four-year-old when she’d left. I wasn’t that woman any more. Even if the transformation had only happened in the past few weeks. ‘It’stime to cut the crap. If you want to see either of your daughters again after you leave in—’ I checked my watch ‘—eight minutes, then start being honest. Because if the last few years have taught us anything, it’s that we really don’t need you. So, if you’d like to have any sort of relationship with us at all, you’d better find a way to make us want you in our lives again.’
Mum looked at the grass for a long moment, before nodding to herself, the decision made.
‘Yes, I was deeply upset by what happened with Jonah, Libby. I tried not to blame you, but we were unable to fully forgive each other, and that caused too much anguish and guilt on top of being so ill. And when the problems between us started impacting your dad, it felt like my bitterness was poisoning everything, and I didn’t know how else to fix it. The Invisible Women showed me that a break would enable us to draw a line under it and start again.’
Nicky was pale with anger. ‘Your ridiculous support group didn’t suggest counselling, or us simply talking it out together? Anything that didn’t coincidentally involve you taking an around-the-world holiday?’
Mum tipped up her chin. She looked just like Isla. ‘It was torture, thinking about you girls, my grandchildren, getting on with your lives and me not being a part of it. If you’re wondering whether I felt awful, then the answer is of course. Then, as time passed, the idea of coming back grew worse and worse, knowing how upset you’d be, sure that the distance between us would be near impossible to bridge.’
‘Five years.’ I had heard her explanation, but it was like oil spilling on water.
‘It was only meant to be one year, and then lockdowns everywhere… I ran out of money so needed to work for a few months. Then another lockdown started…’
Nicky rolled her eyes. ‘You could have bought a cheap disposable phone and given us your number. Arranged a time when we could speak properly.’
‘I was afraid you’d never call.’ Mum started crying again. ‘I’m so sorry to hear about Brayden, and the other things you’ve been through. I can never make up the lost years to Finn and Isla. But please trust me when I say that I had to do this. I wouldn’t have left if I had any choice.’
‘You need to go now,’ Nicky said, sounding as unsympathetic as I felt. ‘But I have one thing for you to consider. We spent our whole childhoods doing our best to love all those children. Being jealous. Even scared of a few. In our house. All the time. We shared birthdays and Christmases and every other normal piece of growing up. And we aren’t complaining. In so many ways we are stronger and better people for it. But knowing what it was like, how hard it was sometimes, you should have at least checked in on us, even if you needed to leave us.’
As Nicky paused for breath, Finn’s excited chatter drifted over the side fence. I got up and hurried into the house, shooing the kids into the living room as soon as they stepped through the front door.
‘Mummy, I haven’t taken my shoes off yet!’ Isla protested. ‘What about the mud on the rug?’
‘Whoops. Take them off here, and I’ll fetch you a snack. I need you to wait two minutes while I talk to Grandad.’
‘What’s happened?’ Dad asked, following me back to the kitchen.
‘Mum’s here.’ I nodded through the window to where Mum was struggling to swing her enormous rucksack onto her back.
He froze, eyes fixed on the window. ‘How is she?’
‘She cried a lot.’ I shrugged.
‘What are her plans now?’
‘We didn’t get that far.’ As Mum started trudging around the house, I hurried down the hallway so I could intercept her on the front drive.
‘Nicky says I can stay at hers,’ Mum said, when I caught up with her. ‘She’s driving me over.’
‘One night.’ My sister looked as though every muscle from her furrowed forehead to her toes were clenched. ‘And we still need to talk about Dad.’
‘It’s been really good to see you.’ Mum was crying again. ‘I know we have a lot more to discuss, and you’re still very upset, but I can’t tell you how much it meant that you allowed me to?—’
‘Did you know Jonah lived at the Green House?’ I interrupted, unable to bear any more platitudes.
Mum stopped, her eyes flicking to Nicky, as if she were going to help her out.
‘Did Dad know, or was this something else you kept from all of us?’
I refused to accept her trying to imply that Dad and I somehow ganged up against her. Mum had been the one to step away from our family, a long time before she actually left.
‘I knew.’ Mum dropped her head in what I hoped was shame. ‘I didn’t think it would be helpful to tell your dad.’
